White Lies
by laynee
Summary: Sam, 11; Dean, 15. Sam comes down with some bug and like a true winchester, doesn't want to be a problem until he can't hide any longer. Dean, John and Bobby help out the best they can.
1. Coming Down

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't

I don't own Supernatural, wish I did, but I don't. So please don't sue, I have no money anyway and I'm only borrowing the brilliant characters.

Also, thanks for all the reviews, I love them.

/\-sn-/\

Sam was hunched in the backseat of the car. His book was closed in his lap and his chin rested in his palm as he watched the fields and trees blur by out the window. Dean sat in the front and kept up a play-by-play of the last few hunts with John, like they were talking about a football game. Every now and then, Dean would catch Sam's eyes in the rear view mirror and Sam would turn back to the window.

Sam had been unusually quiet when he and Dean had come home from school. John didn't have much time to investigate after Sam's answer of 'fine' to John's question of 'how are you, how was school?' He packed his boys up and were on the road under an hour of them coming home. There was a restless spirit at a camp that he wanted Dean to help him with.

At thirteen, Dean was getting hands on training, like he had been for the past three years. John took him on more hunts, gave him more experiences to learn from. Sam always came along, but mostly he waited by or in the car.

Sam had only been let in on the secret a year ago. All this talk about hunts and ghosts and demons fascinated him and scared him, though he'd only admit the first part to his brother and dad. Mostly he just liked being in on the secret, knowing what everyone else in his family knew.

"Sam could help me." Dean said, his eyes caught Sam's in the mirror again.

John glanced back at his son. "We'll see."

Most times, Sam would want to help. He didn't always want to move or go on some too long car ride, but the hunt was an adventure. He didn't know what he wanted more, to be with his dad and brother, or to have a normal life like his friends at school. He know from as long as he could remember, that Winchester and normal never could end up in the same sentence or thought or life.

"How about it, Sam?" John's eyes found Sam's in the mirror.

He shrugged. "I guess."

In all truth, Sam wasn't feeling the best. His head sort of throbbed and his stomach didn't feel quite right. He wouldn't say anything, it wouldn't change a thing if he did.

John pulled into the camp and parked in front of a cabin. The place was creepy even in the mid-afternoon sun. Dean got out of the car and Sam crawled out a few minutes after him. John got the supplies from the trunk and issued Dean his share.

John looked over at Sam leaned up against the car. "Stay with the car, Sam. Dean and I will be back soon. Couple hours, maybe."

Dean expected Sam to argue against it, but he didn't. Sam simply shrugged. "Okay."

Sam had been talking about this hunt for a week, ever since dad said that maybe he could help. Now all the sudden, Sam didn't care. Dean was about to ask him about it when John summed him. Sam watched them walk around the cabin before he climbed back into the car.

He pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands and folded his arms across his chest. He rested his head against the window and closed his eyes. His head throbbed more and he took a few slow breaths to calm his stomach. He fell asleep without meaning to.

John and Dean returned to the car a few hours after sunset. The hunt was a success if the black eye Dean would have in the morning, his split lip and the cut across John's arm were ignored. Sam was curled in the backseat when Dean glanced back at him. He shifted and sighed in his sleep.

"He all right?" John asked as he started the car.

Dean shrugged. "I guess."

"How's your head? You got banged around a little"

"Okay." Dean leaned back in the seat.

The hour drive home was silent. John and Dean both running the hunt back in their minds, looking at what went wrong so that it shouldn't happen again. By the time John pulled up in front of the house, the adrenaline had faded and he and Dean were worn out and sore. He turned off the car and they sat there for a few minutes in the silence.

"We can leave the bags until morning." John looked back at Sam.

Dean pushed open his door and climbed out. He leaned against the car in the cool, damp night.

John reached back and touched Sam's shoulder. "Sam, Sammy."

Sam shifted and buried himself deeper in his sweatshirt. John reached in and lifted his son from the backseat. It was then that John noticed how warm his boy was in his arms. A line of worry formed between his eyes.

"He's almost too big for that." Dean smirked. "He wouldn't let you if he was awake."

John carried Sam inside and gently placed him on the couch. Dean dropped into a chair and sighed. John stepped into the kitchen and returned with a thermometer.

Dean sat forward, his eyes on Sam. "What's wrong?"

"Probably nothing, go on and get ready for bed."

Dean didn't move, but John didn't really expect him to. He watched his father take his brother's temperature. Sam woke and he looked over at Dean. Sam pushed himself up a little.

John's eyes covered his concern. "You feel all right, Sam?"

Sam looked over at his dad and nodded.

"You sure?"

He nodded again.

John sighed. "Get on up to bed, then."

Sam slid off the couch and walked up to his room. He knew that John and Dean would talk about him, but his head hurt too much to care. He pulled on a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt and climbed under his tangled blankets. He felt the room spin around him and his stomach ached.

John sunk into a chair and took a slow breath.

"Is he running a fever?"

John nodded slightly.

Dean looked towards the room. "How high?"

"101. 4"

Dean stood.

"Dean." John pulled a bottle of advil from his pocket and tossed it to Dean. "Try and get him to take one of these."

He caught it and went up to the room he shared with Sam. His brother was curled under the blankets, already asleep.

Dean sat on the edge of Sam's bed. "Sammy."

He shifted and opened his eyes.

Dean dumped out one of the pills and took the water from the nightstand. "Take this."

Sam sat up on one elbow and did as he was told. He sunk back into his pillow. He fell back asleep within minutes. After a while, Dean climbed under his own blankets and turned out the lamp.

On his way past, John stopped in the doorway and looked at his boys. Sam was sprawled out under his blankets. His face was pale and he sighed in his sleep. John slipped into the room and rested his hand on his youngest's forehead. The fever hadn't gone down. He brushed Sam's hair back and wondered what Sam wasn't telling. He glanced over at Dean and headed off to bed.

Sam woke early in the morning. The room was still dark around him. His stomach clenched painfully. He pushed himself to his feet and staggered out into the hall. The floor seemed to shift under his feet as he stumbled to the bathroom.

He closed the door most of the way and turned on the light. He was blinded for a few moments. He lowered himself to the floor and leaned back against the wall and waited.


	2. Unhidden

I don't own Supernatural, not one bit of it, so if you are planning on suing, please, please don't

I don't own Supernatural, wish I did, but I don't. So please don't sue, I have no money anyway and I'm only borrowing the brilliant characters.

Also, thanks for all the reviews, I love them.

/\-sn-/\

John wasn't too surprised when he woke from hearing Sam being sick in the bathroom. He climbed out of bed and saw the light from the bathroom spill into the hall.

Sam sat on the floor with his knees drawn up when John appeared in the doorway. "Sammy?"

Sam looked up, his eyes glassy with fever and his face pale. He looked much sicker than he had when had John carried him inside.

John crossed the distance from the door to his son in a few steps and knelt next to him. He rested his cool, rough hand on Sam's forehead for a moment. "Are you all right?"

Sam nodded, exhausted.

John filled a glass of water and handed it to Sam. He took a few slow drinks and set it on the floor at his side. He wanted to fall back asleep, but he ached from the fever and his stomach was far from calm enough to allow sleep.

"Let's get you back to bed."

"Not yet." Sam breathed, his eyes still closed.

John sat on the floor next to his son. It crossed his mind for a moment that he should put his arm around Sam's shoulders or something equally comforting. The truth was, he didn't know what to do, besides it would probably be too little too late. Sam didn't expect any comforting gesture.

"Come on, Sammy."

He shook his head and held his clenched hand over his stomach. He didn't want to throw up with his dad there, he didn't want to show he was weak. Sam didn't know how much longer he could hold it together.

"Dad?" He opened his eyes a little. "Could I have a few minutes?"

John looked at his son. When Sam was sick or sleeping, he looked younger that his nine years. John wondered when exactly his baby became so independent that he didn't need him. He wondered when Sam simply stopped asking for his help. The realization made him wish that things could have turned out different.

"Sure." John stood and walked out into the hall and closed the bathroom door some.

He heard Sam vomit again and regretted that he couldn't do anything to help his son. Dean came out into the hall, still half asleep. He looked from John to the half open bathroom door.

"Dad?" Dean quickly grew alert with worry.

"He's all right, go back to bed." John kept his voice low.

Dean leaned against the wall and looked towards the bathroom door. They heard the toilet flush and then a dull thump. Dean and John automatically raced for the door.

Sam was slumped on the floor, his face as white as the tile around him. Dean knelt at his brother's side and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"You all right, Sammy?"

Sam nodded and sighed. "Lost my balance, is all."

Sam leaned his head on Dean's shoulder, too weary to continue sitting under his own strength. Dean could feel the heat of his little brother's fever through his shirt. Dean looked up at his dad, hoping to find answers in his face.

John knelt next to his boys. "Sammy?"

"Hmmm?" Sam was falling asleep.

"I'm going to help you back to bed, all right?"

"Mmhmm." He sighed.

John picked up Sam again and carried him back into the room. He gently placed Sam in his bed and pulled the blankets up. Sam curled on his side and buried his face in the pillow. John didn't have to tell Dean to sit with Sam and watch him.

John left the room and returned a few minutes later with a bucket, a glass of water and a damp washcloth. He placed the bucket at Sam's bedside, the water on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. He wiped his son's face with the damp cloth. It seemed that when Sam was sick or sleeping was the only time that John could show any affection. It was just too hard and strange for both of them any other time. Sam was already starting to go his own way, or at least voicing his opinions. John always knew Sam would go his own way, right when the kid started walking, he knew.

Dean sat on the edge of his own bed and watched. The tension and concern was evident in the hard lines across his shoulders and how attentively he watched his baby brother. Sam shifted under the blankets, his brow furrowed in pain. John stood and pulled a desk chair over. He sat at Sam's bedside with his elbows rested on his knees.

"Get some sleep, Dean." John didn't take his eyes from Sam.

Dean stretched out under his blankets, but kept his eyes on his brother. Sam slept fitfully curled on his side. He never slept like that unless he was really sick. A few times John took Sam's temperature or sat him up to give him a drink of water or something for the fever. Sam never really woke any of those times, his eyes might have opened, but he wasn't awake.

The room lightened as dawn grew closer. Neither John nor Dean got any more sleep and the sleep Sam got seemed far from restful. His fever rose to 102.8 shortly after John found him in the bathroom, but hadn't changed since then.

John's cell phone rang. He glanced over at Dean and reluctantly left the room. Dean took John's chair at his brother's bedside and brushed Sam's damp hair back from his face.

Sam's eyes opened and he looked around the room for a few moments, trying to figure out where he was. He looked over at Dean.

"How are you feeling, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged slightly. He was still very pale and his eyes were glassy with fever. He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of his bed.

"Where are you going?"

He struggled to his feet. Dean was instantly at his side to help him.

"Bathroom?" Dean guessed.

Sam nodded slightly. Dean helped him down the hall.

Dean sat with his brother as Sam retched in front of the toilet. There wasn't anything left to come up, but it seemed that Sam's body had yet to realize that. Dean kept a hand on Sam's shoulder, as much to comfort him as it was to steady him.

Sam slid down to the floor and leaned against the wall. Dean handed him a glass of water. Sam took a few slow sips and handed the glass back.

"You ready to get back to bed?"

Sam nodded slightly. Dean hauled his brother to his feet and guided him back to bed. Sam pulled the covers tight around his shoulders and curled into a ball. John came back into the room. Dean looked over at him.

John sat on the edge of Sam's bed and brushed his boy's hair back. "How's he doing?"

"He puked again." Dean looked intently at his brother.

"Sammy?" John leaned in a little.

Sam opened his eyes and uncurled a little.

"How are you feeling?"

He shrugged slightly. "My head still hurts."

"And your stomach?"

He nodded.

John rested his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Get some more rest." He stood. "Dean."

Dean followed his father to the doorway. Dean kept his eyes on Sam.

"Bobby called."

Dean looked at his father. "What about?"

"He said he might need help on a case this evening." He looked in at Sam. "I don't want to leave you alone with him."

"We'll be okay."

John paused. "He's pretty sick. I don't want to leave him."

"Maybe see how he is later." Dean shrugged.


	3. Lying

I don't own Supernatural or anything that has to deal with it

I don't own Supernatural, that's the WB. So please don't sue me because I already have enough student loans to worry about. Otherwise, enjoy. Thanks for the reviews.

-note: I wasn't sure if I'd even put this up, it started out as a one shot….but clearly it isn't. Don't know when I'll have time to update after the slew of chapters, but I will as soon as I can.

The rest of the day was spent between John and Dean spending time at Sam's bedside. Sam slept through most of it. Despite being sure of helping Bobby or not, John cleaned and organized all his weapons.

Dean was at his brother's bedside with a book open. He usually didn't read, but there wasn't much else to do.

"Dean." It wasn't much louder than a whisper.

He looked up and saw that Sam was awake. "You okay?"

He nodded. "You should go on the hunt with dad."

"Can't leave you here alone, stupid."

Sam sat up against the pillows a little. "I feel all right."

"Sure." Dean sarcastically smiled. "Except your face is the same color of white as the pillow case."

Sam shrugged. His eyes caught on the book in Dean's lap. "Were you reading?" He smirked.

"Only because sitting with you was gonna kill me with boredom."

"Didn't even know you could read."

"Shut up, Jerkface." Dean moved a glass of water over to his brother. "You should drink something."

Sam took a few slow drinks of water with the pills Dean handed him and handed the glass back. He felt a little better, but had a suspicion that it was only from the fact that he had spent all day sleeping.

John stood in the doorway. "Dean."

Dean stood and followed his dad into the hall.

"Bobby's going to need me tonight. The job's only an hour away. How's he doing?"

Dean shrugged. "He seems a little better."

John ran his fingers through his hair. "God, I just hate to leave him like this."

"Dad?" Sam called from the room.

John leaned around the doorframe. "Are you all right, Sammy?"

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, his hands gripped the blankets to keep from falling. "Take me and Dean with you."

"Sam, you're sick."

Sam shook his head. "I'm okay. I'll just sleep in the car. If Bobby needs your help, then he could use Dean's too."

John didn't like it, but he had few other options. "We'll head out in a couple hours. If you can keep some toast down, then we'll see from there."

Sam nodded and swallowed. John left to make the toast and Dean sat next to Sam on the bed.

"How much of that was a lie?" Dean asked.

"None." Sam sounded almost believable.

"Uh, huh." Dean didn't buy it for a second. "And I'm the Easter bunny."

Sam looked over at Dean. "You just admitted to being pink and fluffy."

Dean was about to retaliate when John returned with a piece of toast on a napkin. He handed it to Sam. The boy looked at it as though it were a challenge he must face. He took a few slow bites and waited for something to happen. It took him fifteen minutes to eat it, his brother and dad watching but pretending not to.

John rested his hand on Sam's forehead and still felt the fever. "Get some more rest."

Sam nodded and slid back down under the covers.

"Dean, help me get the guns ready."

Dean glanced over at Sam, already half asleep, and followed his dad out the door.

Sam slept for the next few hours, unaware of the few times his dad or brother came in to check on him.

John knelt at Sam's bedside and reluctantly shook the boy awake. "Sammy."

Sam opened his eyes. "Are we leaving?"

John held his hand to Sam's forehead. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine."

He was still feverish and pale. His head hurt and his stomach was unsettled. He took a breath and pushed himself up.

John pulled out the thermometer. "Let's see how warm you are."

Sam waited with it under his tongue. He willed his temperature down in his head. He didn't want Bobby doing the job alone, he didn't want his dad to be worried about leaving him.

John removed the thermometer and read the number.

"How high?" Sam asked.

He took a breath. "101.8. I don't know, Sam."

"I'll sleep in the car, it's just like sleeping here. I feel okay, really."

John looked over at Dean. "What do you think?"

Dean saw Sam meet his eyes. Sam nodded slightly. "If he says he feels okay, then I guess he is."

"Make sure he dresses warm." John sighed and left the room. He hated to bring Sam along when he was sick, but he hated to leave him alone more. At least with Sam in the car, John would be close if he needed anything.

Dean pulled out a pair of socks and a hooded sweatshirt. Sam pulled them on as Dean found the kid's shoes.

"You sure you're all right?" Dean asked as Sam stepped into his shoes.

"Yeah."

Dean took Sam's arm and helped him down to the living room. Sam sat on the couch and leaned into the pillows.

John came in with Sam's jacket. "Here, put this on." He helped his son pull it over the sweatshirt.

Sam, Dean and John went out to the car. John had placed a bucket on the floor of the back seat in case Sam needed it. Sam curled up in the back like he had the night before. John threw a blanket over him and pulled away from the house. Sam was asleep three blocks after they left.

Bobby met them at a small road that ended at some woods. John glanced back at Sam before he got out of the car.

Bobby looked over at the car. "How's Sam?"

"He says he feels better." John looked over at Dean.

"Well, I can't say I'm not thankful for the help. Having Dean here will make this go easier too."

Dean forced himself to push his concern for his brother to the back of his mind. On a hunt, the only thing in his mind should be the hunt. Anything else can result in injury.

Sam woke to the dim light just after sunset. The woods around the car were silent. He didn't know how long ago his brother and dad left. He didn't know what woke him until he realized he was going to throw up again. He pushed open the door and staggered out of the car. He ran for the edge of the woods and fell to his hands and knees.

He vomited toast and bitter stomach acid. His head throbbed and his stomach hurt. After a few minutes he shakily pushed himself to his feet and struggled back to the car. His feet caught in the tall grass and he fell again. Everything spun around him as he tried to stand again. He blacked out and fell into the dew soaked grass.

Dean, John and Bobby walked back towards the car. Other than being covered in dirt, bruised and bone tired, they were fine. John didn't doubt his decision to bring Dean along, the kid saved both John and Bobby's butt more than once.

John glanced in the car and saw the empty backseat. "Sammy?"


	4. Worse for Wear

I don't own Supernatural or anything that has to deal with it

I don't own Supernatural, that's the WB. So please don't sue me because I already have enough student loans to worry about. Otherwise, enjoy. Thanks for the reviews.

-note: I wasn't sure if I'd even put this up, it started out as a one shot….but clearly it isn't. Don't know when I'll have time to update after the slew of chapters, but I will as soon as I can.

He turned towards the woods. Dean was at his side in a second. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"I don't know where your brother is."

Bobby called from the other side of the car. "John."

Sam was curled in the grass, his shirt and pants were damp from the night. John ran to him. He knelt at his son's side and pulled him into his lap.

"Sammy?" John brushed the boy's hair back away from his fevered forehead.

Sam opened his eyes. "Dad?"

"What happened, Sammy?"

"M'cold." He muttered and closed his eyes again.

John lifted Sam up and carried him back to the car. Dean stood a few feet away, worry spilling from his eyes.

"Dad?" He whispered.

"He's all right, Dean."

Sam clutched his father's jacket and buried his face in John's shoulder.

"Dean, climb in back and sit with him."

Dean crawled in back of the car and John handed Sam over to his brother. John climbed behind the wheel.

Bobby leaned in the window. "I'll follow behind."

John pulled back onto the road and pointed the car towards home. Sam held tight to Dean's jacket and shivered. Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother and held him close to try and warm him up. John slipped off his jacket and covered Sam with it.

"How's he doing, Dean?" John looked up at his boys in the rear-view-mirror.

Dean tried to keep the fear out of his voice. "He won't stop shivering."

John drove as fast as he dared to get them all home. He pulled up in front of the house and took Sam from Dean's arms. John carried his boy inside and gently placed him on the couch.

"Dean, grab a blanket and the thermometer."

Dean ran from the room. John pulled Sam's shoes and jacket from him. Sam woke again and looked around the room, unsure where he was.

He tried to sit up, but John held him back. "Easy, son."

"Dad?" He grabbed John's sleeve.

"Shhh, you're all right." John sat on the couch and pulled Sam into his lap. "You're okay, Sammy."

Sam buried himself in John's shirt. "I don't feel very good." He muttered.

"I know, bud, I know."

John pulled the sweatshirt off his son as Dean came back into the room. John wrapped the blanket around him. John placed the thermometer under Sam's tongue. Dean perched on the arm of a chair.

John pulled the thermometer out and read the number. He closed his eyes for a moment as though trying to gather his thoughts.

"Dad?" Dean tried to keep the quiver out of his voice.

Bobby came through the front door, the bags and weapons in his hands. "I'll put these away."

"Dean, go help him."

Dean stood, but didn't go any further. He didn't want to leave Sam.

Bobby rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's okay, Dean, I've got them."

Dean stood close to John on the couch. "What's his temp at?" Dean whispered.

"103." John brushed Sam's damp hair away from his fevered skin. After a few moments John stood. "I'm going to bring him upstairs."

He carried Sam up to the room and placed him back in bed. He pulled on clean and dry pajamas onto his youngest son and pulled the blankets up around his shoulders. Dean was close behind.

Sam opened his eyes when John pulled the blankets up. "Dad."

"Yeah, Sam." John brushed Sam's hair back again.

He swallowed and rolled to his side. "I think I'm gonna throw up again."

John held Sam as he dry heaved over the bucket. Nothing came up, but it didn't stop Sam's body from trying. After several long minutes, Sam relaxed into his father's grasp. John eased him back to bed and pulled the blankets up.

"Dean." John said without looking away from Sam. "Get me a wet washcloth, glass of water and the bottle of advil."

Dean practically ran from the room.

"How you feeling, Sammy?" John leaned close.

"Not that good." He breathed.

John cupped his hand under Sam's head. "Why'd you get out of the car?"

Sam opened his eyes and looked at his dad. "I didn't want to throw up in the car. I tripped on the grass. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." He ran his fingers through Sam's hair. "I'm just glad you're safe."

Dean returned with the things John wanted. John sat his son up and helped him drink and take the advil. He moved to the edge of Sam's bed and held his son against his chest. He wiped the damp washcloth over Sam's face and held it against his forehead. Sam hung onto the arm that John had wrapped around Sam's chest.

Sam shifted. "Dean?"

Dean sat next to his father and brother on the bed. "I'm right here, Sammy."

"Did the hunt go okay?" He muttered.

"Yeah." Dean almost smiled. "Get some sleep, Sammy."

Sam sighed and leaned against John. They sat that way for a while. When John was sure that Sam was asleep, he moved the boy back to bed.

Bobby came to the doorway. John stood and went over to him. Dean took the job of wiping the cloth across Sam's forehead.

"You and Dean get some sleep. I'll stay with Sam for a while."

John looked back at his boys. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

John rested his hand on Bobby's shoulder. "Thanks."

He walked over to his sons and touched Dean's shoulder. "Get ready for bed. Bobby's going to stay with Sam for a while."

Dean looked back at Bobby and nodded slightly. He stood and left the room. John watched Sam for a few seconds before he left. Bobby took the seat at the bedside.

Dean crawled into bed. "Goodnight, Sam."

Sam slept fitfully for a few hours. Bobby kept replacing the cloth with a cool one. Whenever Sam woke a little, Bobby would help him drink a little.

Sam's glassy eyes were fixed on Bobby.

Bobby looked up and leaned forward. "How do you feel?"

He shrugged.

Bobby took Sam's temperature and helped him drink some water after. Sam pushed off the blankets and shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He just wanted to sleep, but the fever kept him from it.

Bobby looked down at the number again. "I'll be right back, Sammy."

He left the room. Sam tried to find a cool spot on the pillow. His head throbbed and his stomach still hadn't settled.

Bobby returned with John. He went to his son's side. "Sammy, your fever's gone up. We have to cool you down, okay?"

Sam nodded, too sick and worn out to really care. John picked him up and carried him into the bathroom. Bobby started the bath, cold but not too cold. John set Sam on the edge of the tub and pulled off his t shirt. Sam's eyes drifted shut and he wavered as he sat. John held him to his chest and looked at Bobby.

John stripped Sam down to his underwear and put him in the half filled tub. Sam's eyes opened for a few seconds before they closed again. John cupped water over Sam's head to cool him. Sam shivered and tried to fight in his half consciousness.

"Don't fight it, Sammy." John soothed. "Don't fight me."

"Dad." The word was small and helpless on Sam's lips.

"I'm right here."

Sam opened his eyes and struggled to keep them open. "Everything hurts." He muttered.

John looked to Bobby for a moment. "I know." He cupped more water over Sam's head.

After twenty minutes, John hauled Sam up and wrapped a towel around him. Sam was limp from exhaustion and collapsed into his dad's arms. Bobby left to get dry pajamas for Sam. John sat on the edge of the bathtub with his sick little boy in his lap. Sam coughed and buried his face into John's chest.

Bobby returned and John pulled the cotton pants onto Sam. He didn't bother with the t-shirt. He carried Sam back to bed and pulled the blanket up. John sat in the chair and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Go on and get some rest, John." Bobby kept his voice down so not to wake the boys.

"I'm going to stay with him for a while." John's eyes were locked on his little boy.

Bobby nodded and left the room. John leaned back in the chair and watched his son's fitful sleep.


	5. Decision

I don't own Supernatural or anything that has to deal with it

I don't own Supernatural, that's the WB. So please don't sue me because I already have enough student loans to worry about. Otherwise, enjoy. Thanks for the reviews.

-note: I wasn't sure if I'd even put this up, it started out as a one shot….but clearly it isn't. Don't know when I'll have time to update after the slew of chapters, but I will as soon as I can.

Sam woke not long after, sometime in the early morning hours. John leaned forward in the chair.

He rested his hand on Sam's hot forehead. "You okay, buddy?"

He didn't answer, he just curled on his side and looked up at John, exhausted.

"Sammy?"

Sam winced and then vomited, didn't even have a warning. For not having eaten anything but a piece of toast in the last twenty-four hours, he managed to bring up a surprising amount of some day's dinner onto his pillow. Tears ran down his cheeks, part from being sorry for causing trouble and part because he was just so sick.

John sat him up and wiped the vomit off Sam's face and chest with the sheet. "You're okay, Sammy. I'm here, you're all right."

He carried Sam over to Dean's bed and tucked him under the blankets. Dean woke and automatically put his arm around his baby brother. The heat radiated off Sam and he seemed frail under Dean's arm.

"Dad?" Dean whispered.

"Just stay with him."

John gathered up Sam's bedding and left the room. He dumped it in the laundry hamper and found clean sheets in the closet. He made Sam's bed with one eye on his sons. Dean's face was as filled with worry as Sam's was pale. John spread a towel over Sam's pillow.

He went over and brushed Sam's hair back. "Sammy?"

Sam struggled and opened his eyes.

John picked up his boy and carried him back to bed. Sam clung to his dad like he was a rescue line in the ocean. John placed Sam back in bed and pulled the blankets up. He helped his son take a few slow drinks of water.

Sam sunk into the pillow. "Sorry." He whispered.

"Hey, no need for that." John brushed Sam's hair back from his forehead. "It was just all the sudden, huh? No need to worry."

Sam nodded, relieved that his dad understood.

"You just rest and I'll be right here."

The boy's eyes slipped closed and his breathing evened out.

"Dad?" Dean whispered.

John looked over. "He'll be all right, Dean."

Dean sat up and played with the edge of his blanket. "It was my fault."

"Not possible."

Dean looked down at the floor. "I knew he was sick when we brought him along, I knew and I didn't tell you."

John glanced over at Sam. "Dean, I knew how sick he was just as much as you did. It's just one of those things that happen. I don't want you thinking you caused any of this. I know Sammy wouldn't either." John met Dean's eyes in the dark room. "Okay?"

Dean nodded and took a breath to relieve the tension and weight from his shoulders.

Sam coughed and his dad and brother turned to him. In the dim light of the room his face looked as though all color had been removed except for the bright pink of his cheeks. He tossed and tuned under the blanket and got it tangled around his legs. John straightened it and brushed Sam's hair back. Sam couldn't find a comfortable position to be in.

When Sam was younger and he couldn't sleep, the only thing that would allow him to rest was to be held. He grew out of it by the time he was five, but John figured there was nothing to lose. He pulled the blankets back and sat his boy up. Sam almost woke and half sobbed in his sleep. John sat with his back against the wall and pulled Sam into his lap. He pulled the blanket up and tucked it around Sam's fevered skin.

Sam struggled weakly for a few moments and then relaxed. "Dad?" He whispered.

"Yeah, Sammy."

"I had a bad dream." He muttered.

John brushed Sam's hair back. "You're all right now."

"You and Dean were killed." Sam shifted. "Where's Dean?"

"He's asleep, just like you should be." John took the glass from the table and held it for his son to drink.

Sam pushed the glass away and tried to struggle. "Let me go." Suddenly there was panic in his voice. "Dean."

John's heart nearly broke at the fear in Sam's voice. "It's okay, Sammy. You're all right, just calm down."

"No, you hurt Dean and my dad. Let me go, Dean help." He sobbed.

Dean sat up and looked over at his dad and brother. "Dad?"

"Come here, Dean." John tried to keep Sam from hurting himself.

Dean sat next to his brother and took Sam's wrists. "Sammy, it's me."

Sam's weary eyes found Dean's in the darkness. "Dean?" He breathed.

"Yeah, I'm right here."

Sam calmed down and he drifted to sleep. John shifted his boy in his arms and got up from the bed. He held Sam as he stood.

Dean stood next to John. "Dad?"

"Go get Bobby."

Dean ran from the room. John carried Sam out into the living room and placed him on the couch. He tossed a blanket over Sam. Bobby and Dean came in a few minutes later. Bobby handed the thermometer over without it ever being mentioned. John almost smiled and took Sam's temperature. 103.7.

"Daddy?" Sam hadn't called John 'daddy' in years.

John knelt at his boy's side. "Yeah, Sammy."

Sam's hot hand grabbed John's wrist with surprising strength. "Don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Bobby kept his voice low so Dean or Sam wouldn't hear. "You thinking hospital?"

John nodded slightly. "He's close to dehydrated, if he isn't already."

Dean sat on the arm of the couch and took Sam's hand. Sam struggled against the blanket thrown over him. John rested his hand on Sam's forehead and the boy calmed again.

Bobby slipped out the front door to warm the chill from the car.

"Dean?" Sam whispered.

He was at Sam's side in a second. "I'm here, Sam."

"He told me where it was."

Dean looked up at John, fear in the boy's eyes. "Where what was?"

"The treasure." Sam's eyes drifted closed. "He said he'd hurt you if I told you."

John brushed Sam's hair away from his face. "Sammy, we're going to go for a little trip. Okay?"

Sam nodded slightly. John gathered the boy up in his arms and wrapped the blanket over him. He carried Sam out to the car. Dean climbed in the back seat without being told and John sat in the front with his boy on his lap. Bobby drove down the quiet streets to the hospital.

Sam coughed again, harder and longer than before. John could feel the heat radiating from his son and felt so helpless that his heart nearly broke. Dean sat forward between the two front seats, his fingers just touching Sam's limp hand. Sam shifted and buried his face in John's shirt.

Bobby pulled up in front of the emergency room doors. John climbed out of the car and carried Sam inside.


	6. Waiting

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

-/\-SN-/\-

The emergency room wasn't busy and John was thankful. It took only a few seconds for a nurse to notice Sam limp in his father's arms. She called for a gurney and a doctor. Everything moved quickly after that.

Sam was taken from John's arms and placed on the gurney. The boy was taken away and John was left with Dean and Bobby at his side.

The minutes passed like hours for the three. They were the only ones in the waiting room, the only ones pretending to read the magazines in the hard chairs.

Dean walked up to his dad and rested his hand on John's shoulder. "Dad."

John looked up at his boy.

"Sammy's gonna be okay. He always is."

He smiled slightly. "I know."

The hours passed. Dean fell asleep in the chair next to John, his head rested on his father's shoulder. Bobby sat at John's other side. His phone rang and he answered it before it could wake Dean.

Bobby stood and walked a few steps away. "Hello? Yeah." He glanced over at John. "Probably not. Yeah, give me ten minutes." He closed his phone and walked over to John. "That was Keith, said he was on a job and needed help."

"Go on, we'll be all right here." John looked over at his son.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." He grabbed his jacket and left.

A doctor came into the room. "Family of Samuel Winchester?"

John woke Dean and they both stood. They followed the doctor down the quiet hall to a quiet room. Sam was curled under a blanket. An intravenous line ran into the back of his hand from medication that hung above him and a nasal cannula gave oxygen to him.

"What's wrong with him?" John kept his voice down.

"It probably started out as a simple case of the stomach flu. His weakened immune system wasn't able to fight off further infection and he has a mild case of pneumonia. He was also a little dehydrated when he was brought in." He paused. "He's going to be fine. I'd like to keep him overnight and see if we can get his temperature back to normal."

"Fine, anything."

"I'll let you stay with you son." He left the room.

John pulled a chair over and sat at Sam's bedside. Dean stood for a few minutes next to his father. Sam shifted in his sleep and almost woke. Dean climbed onto the bed and lay down next to his brother. He put an arm over Sam.

John's cell rang and he stepped towards a corner of the room. "Hello?"

He went back to his sons and rested his hand on Dean's shoulder. "That was Bobby. He needs my help."

Dean sat up. "We'll be okay. I'll watch him."

"I don't want to leave him."

"Bobby needs you. All Sammy's gonna do is sleep. I'll watch him."

John saw wisdom beyond Dean's fourteen years. "Okay. I can always count on you. I'll try not to be long."

He took one last glance at Sam, kissed the boy's fevered forehead and slipped out of the room. Dean lay back down with his arm over Sam. He stayed awake and kept watch over his brother.

Sam shifted and realized that someone's arm was around him. "Dean?"

Dean sat up and Sam turned to him. "What do you need?"

He looked around a little. "Hospital?"

"Yeah." Dean rested his hand on top of Sam's.

"Where's dad?"

"Helping Bobby. He'll be back soon."

Sam coughed a little. He sat up and half crawled into Dean's lap. Dean shifted him so he was more comfortable and Sam closed his eyes.

"Dean?" His hair was damp with sweat.

"Yeah, Sammy."

"I wanna go home."

Dean brushed his brother's hair back. "Maybe in the morning."

"'kay." He fell back asleep.

Dean sat with his brother in his lap and listened to Sam's breath wheeze a little in his lungs.

Sam shifted in some dream he was having and Dean tightened his grip on his brother. He struggled under his older brother's arms. Dean was careful of the lines going into his brother.

"Shhh, Sammy. You're okay." Dean brushed Sam's hair back.

Sam's eyes flew open. "No, let me go!"

"Sammy, it's just a bad dream. You're okay."

Dean could feel Sam's heartbeat, fast from fear, under his hand. He kept his arms around his brother, kept trying to wake him from the panic of the dream. Slowly Sam clamed down and relaxed.

"Dean." He whispered.

"Yeah, Sammy."

"Is dad okay?" He coughed a little.

Dean leaned over and met Sam's eyes. "He's fine."

"I dreamed he died." He paused. "You died too."

"That's not gonna happen, Sammy."

"Never?"

Dean smiled. "Never."

Sam shifted in his brother's arms. "Dean?"

"Sammy."

"When's dad coming back?"

Dean ran his fingers Sam's hair. "Soon. Get some rest."

Sam's breathing slowed and Dean thought he had fallen back asleep.

"Dean?"

Dean smiled to himself. "Yeah, Sam."

"I'm glad you're here." He then fell asleep.

Dean sat with his arms around his brother. He could already tell that Sam's fever had come down some and his breathing was a little easier.

John and Bobby came back towards dawn. Dean was still awake, with Sam still in his arms. He knew that it was the only way his little brother would sleep in the unfamiliar hospital bed. John met Dean's eyes when he came into the room and they smiled a little at each other.

"He okay?" John whispered as he sunk into a chair.

Dean nodded and glanced down at Sam.

Around noon the next day, Sam was released from the hospital. He could have stayed longer, but Dean and John couldn't stand to see him in that room almost as much as Sam hated to be there himself. He was given strict orders to bed-rest and fluids for the next few days and to come back in at any sign of a fever or if his cough worsened.

John and Bobby decided that it would be best if they all went to Bobby's, more people to look after Sam. John looked at his boys in the rearview mirror as he followed Bobby down the road. Sam was asleep, his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean was out as well, with his arm around his brother and his head resting on the top of Sam's. They'd all be okay because they all were together. No matter what happened, they had each other.


End file.
